Seasons
by Piratess-Bell
Summary: A collection of short snippets of Sparrabella that I've written over the years.
1. Big Girls Don't Cry

**Big Girls Don't Cry**

An Extended Moment One-Shot From City of Gold

_Originally published September 26, 2007._

The sun slowly crawled up into the glorious watercolor dawn sky. He threw his arm around her shoulders and she didn't protest. Normally, he wouldn't try such a thing, especially with Captain Smith standing right beside them, but now was a moment to enjoy, a moment of happy celebration, a moment of peace. He had won the battle and gained back his crew-his _whole _crew-and he was free to do whatever he wanted. Just the way he liked it.

Everything seemed perfect. Even the weather was cooperating. A perfect moment, he thought. He had been on the run for so long without a moment to catch his breath, it seemed like he would never experience a moment as faultless as this.

He started towards the docks, his arm around Arabella's shoulders, and a happy feeling illuminated on his face. Arabella wasn't moving with him, she stood frozen in place. His brow furrowed as he noticed the unsure expression on her beautiful face.

"What?" he gazed perplexed at her, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Everything was perfect. "What's wrong now?" he asked her.

Arabella's lips quivered with indecision and the inner struggle she was experiencing flickered behind her warm brown eyes. This was the first time he had ever seen her unsure of anything. "Look, Jack," Arabella started, her voice less strong than normal. "Me and me mum, we sort of have to work… well…"

Though Arabella had trouble explaining what she was attempting to communicate to Jack, but Jack caught her meaning. "You want to _stay _with her?" he asked, more confused than before. Captain Smith and her daughter did not get along to put it mildly. Arabella could not stand being around her mother, and Captain Smith had kidnapped her, only very recently being rescued by Jack and the rest of the crew of the Barnacle. Why was she asking to go with her again? Even Captain Smith looked surprised.

Arabella shrugged. With a glance at her mother she continued. "I want to give her a chance at least. D'ye understand?" She turned to Jack with the most heart-breaking expression he'd ever seen. "I've never felt so free as I have with you on the Barnacle. I've never had such adventures...or _friends_ before. And I feel so bad, especially after ye made me yer first mate and all..." Arabella's words were so full of passion and genuine sadness to be leaving. Jack could feel his heart aching. He couldn't remember feeling this way ever before. Arabella's sad smile tugged at Jack's heart. He couldn't believe it. He knew Arabella was feeling the same way from her heart-aching smile. She stood up a little straighter and continued, "But, I've missed her so much...and I don't want to lose her again. I'm going to stay with her and Mr. Reece on the Fleur de la Morte."

"Forever?" Jack asked, hoping, though he knew it was most likely to be in vain, that she would say no.

"For now," Arabella replied, placing her hand comfortingly on his.

Jack could tell that his normally smug and sarcastic face was revealing his feelings. A dark shadow of sadness flashed over Jack's usually unshakable features. "Well," Jack choked out. "Do what you have to, luv," he murmured, his voice hardly audible. Then he realized this was only going to make Arabella feel worse than she already was. He gave a fierce grin. "We're all free to come and go on the Barnacle. That's the point, is it not? We're all free to do as we please! Good luck with that, Bell!" These words of encouragement didn't seem to be doing their job. Arabella's eyes shined with drops of salty tears. "You're crying, lass," Jack said, feeling himself headed in that same direction.

"Just something in me eye," Arabella cried. She stepped towards Jack and quickly threw her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. "Thank you for everything, Jack," she sobbed into his ear. "You really are the best mate I've ever had-ever _will _have."

Jack put his arms around her and for a moment, his heart stopped aching. He knew then something he'd somehow known all along.

_ I love her, _Jack thought. He swallowed hard and let Arabella go. She looked at him longingly for a moment, and then went on to say her final good-byes to the rest of the crew. He stared after her, as she took her place next to her mother. She tried to look brave. She tried to look strong. She did, she looked inspirational. She looked like something worthy of a painting, Jack thought.

He let out the pressure inside with a sigh. He stepped onto the boat, _his _boat and kept himself busy untying the lines. The crew of the Fleur boarded right beside him. Arabella was last to go on. Before she stepped onto the invisible ship she turned to her previous captain and waved, her brave, courageous look gone, her heartbreaking sad smile had returned. But, Jack didn't notice. His eyes couldn't leave her beautiful brown eyes, replete with the sadness of an empty soul. He couldn't take his eyes away.

She slowly stepped onto the Fleur and faded from his view like a memory you weren't ready to forget. Jack wasn't ready to forget Arabella yet. But still he watched the waves and sea foam left by the fantastic ship, taking Arabella away from him. A tear welled in his eye, but he quickly wiped it away, he wouldn't risk letting Fitzwilliam see him like this. That was completely out of the question. He had to pull himself together. He took a long sigh as images of his first mate, best friend, and secret crush populated his mind.

_ If you love something, __let it go._


	2. Heart's Desire

**Heart's Desire**

(My first Jack Sparrow fanfiction attempt)

_Originally published October 29, 2007_

The weathered and lonely walls of Tortuga's faithless Bride had seen the theatrics of as many dramas of piracy, love and adventure as it had spilled pints of ale and rum, which, if you asked the irritable barmaid scrubbing aggressively at the battered, abused slab of eternally soggy driftwood, isn't an amount to be laughed at. You see, she knows these things now. It's her curse. She thought she had escaped. But being a moral-by-nature, honest girl caged in a thousand leagues below in the center of golden age piracy has a way of stringing you along, and keeping you from anywhere you could really belong. But she knew this, and all too well. It's frustrating gravity poured out her life and her joy, stealing from her all but the last memories of far youth, which seemed much farther than they were. It had really only been… ten? No, five years? She couldn't recall. Monotony, meaninglessness, and the omnipresent din festival of sin all hours had reduced her lofty dreams to the dregs of the evening pint, where loneliness was her only companion.

Arabella Smith, the twenty-four year old barmaid, sighed. She could hardly believe she was back here. Doing this job that she thought she had avoided. She breathed in the salty smell of the tavern constructed completely of wood from shipwrecks claimed by the waters just outside.

The horrible rain had finally ceased and the leaks in the ceiling not streaming as they had. Arabella proceeded to pick up the tankards left on the worn table. All the drunken, old salts she called patrons had left the tavern empty in the middle of the night.

Even as the wind died down and managed only a ghostly hiss, the creaky door blew open. Startled, the tankard slipped out of the girl's fingers and she fixed her attentions towards the sudden noise.

Surprising as it was to see anyone at this hour not captured in a stupor, even more surprising was that the visitor was someone she recognized. The memory of the first time she met him, as a stranger in the same place he now stood.

Struck with an acute case of déjà vu, it was all she could do to stutter: "Captain?"

At her word, the detached man caught her bewilderment. After a moment, he incredulously tested, "Have we met before?"

Arabella smiled as she caught his characteristic voice. With certainty she ventured, "it is you." Directed towards his question, she added, "Jack, it's Bell."

"Arabella Smith?" he asked, taking a step into the tavern.

"Yes, yes, it's me." She confirmed, welcoming him with an embrace. She didn't notice his surprise. He received few welcomes that didn't involve death glares or violence.

"So you ended up back here, ay?" he asked when she joined his side.

"Seems so" she trailed off, looking wearily around the room. A thought struck her and she froze. "Jack..." she said.

"What's that?" Jack replied.

Arabella pulled away from him, "I've got some ...happy news." Her tone contradicted her meaning just as clearly as her face.

Jack picked up on this more than she'd hoped. "Then, why is it that you seem to be having trouble telling me?"

"It's ...well, complicated..." she bit her lip, searching for the right words to say what she was trying so hard to communicate to her friend.

"I'm listening."

"I never thought I was going to see you again...but, know that if I knew this day would come I would've never agreed to this, but...my mother, you remember, " Arabella's tone grew icy. "Captain Smith. She's a hard one to forget. We never got along, as you would remember. She left me here, on Tortuga, and I came back here. It was the only place I had left. I thought, if there were some way I could get out of here, I would do it. And I knew if I was to...get married, then I would not be serving ale and rum here anymore , so…" Arabella lifted her hand. As a slap-evading instinct, Jack shied away. But, Arabella simply lifted her other hand and pointed to her ring finger. On it, was a gorgeous engagement ring.

"I don't love him," she confessed, as she'd never had the ability to before. Her shoulders drooped.

"Why?" Jack asked.

"Because I care for another."

"And, who's that?"

"Well… it's you."


	3. First Christmas

**First Christmas**

A Barnacle Christmas Tale

_Originally published December 23, 2007_

Arabella danced up the Barnacle's wooden stairs to the main deck, humming and smiling happily. She wore a dress finer than she wore normally, one a deep red with white, glittery ribbon around her slim waist. It was early, the sun had yet to peek it's head into the light, airy sky. It was warm, typical of any Caribbean day. Arabella had woken up early, so early that she was alone this morning, even Jean, who was supposed to have a watch at this hour, had fallen to sleep at his post, snoring away peacefully.

Her arms full of green, red and white colored strands of cloth, and other festive decorations, Arabella went to work. She strung tinted lanterns onto the many hanging ropes, looped the cloth through the stairs railing and daintily lit a few tall candles.

She leaned back to admire her work, just as Constance hopped up the steps from below. Constance's yellow eyes flickered around the boat in wonder, her gaze finally stopping on Arabella. The cat mewed in confusion.

"Today's a special day, Constance," Arabella said, her voice sweet and musical.

Constance just mewed louder, seemingly questioning the fancy-dressed girl's sanity. The little cat's meow awoke Jean, who sat up straight and then, his dark eyes darting around, he asked, "What's going on?"

"Why, don't ye know what today is?" Arabella asked him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"The day after yesterday…which would make today the day _before_ tomorrow." Jean answered, simply.

Arabella giggled. "No, silly, today's-"

Just then, a voice from below decks interrupted Arabella, a yawn and then a groan, then a voice, that sounded curiously like Fitzwilliam's shouting, "Hey!"

Three boys stumbled up the stairs, their hair messy and their clothes creased. Fitzwilliam rubbed his forehead. On the left side of his head, his blonde hair all positioned in a single direction, created a cliff of blonde that refused to stay straight. Tumen's hair, instead, was formed into black mountains, each poking up a different direction. Jack's shaggy black hair was always untidy, so it is effortless to imagine his morning bed-head.

Arabella grinned as the boys observed the _Barnacle's_ deck, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly agape. "Good morning," she greeted the stunned boys, who turned to face her, in doing which Fitzwilliam and Jack's jaw's nearly grazed the deck.

Tumen joined Jean at the wheel. Jean continued to quiz the grinning girl, "What _is_ all this?"

"Yes," Tumen agreed. "Why is the ship all…" Tumen searched for the right word, "…fancy?"

"Why, I can't believe it, _none_ of you know what today is?" Arabella sighed. "I suppose I'll tell you then. Today's date happens to be the twenty-fifth of December."

"OH!" Fitzwilliam realized. "Today is Christmas! I cannot believe I forgot!"

"Neither can I!" Tumen and Jean agreed.

"Thank you," Arabella waved her hand, thankful she wasn't going to have to celebrate all by herself.

"What are you people talking about?" Jack asked, still confused, rubbing his eyes.

"Jack, come on. Ye must know of Christmas," Arabella prodded.

"Ah. No," Jack yawned.

"Surely… ye _must_."

"Not ringing any bells, Bell."

"Oh," she sighed. "Christmas trees, jingle bells, holly, Father Christmas…mistletoe?" Jean stifled a giggle. Fitzwilliam shushed him. Jack looked blankly at her, trying to recognize any of the things she mentioned, but failing, sadly. "Sorry," he apologized.

"It's not your fault… It's just… well, crazy. I mean, who hasn't heard of Christmas?" Arabella stumbled over her words, her cheerfulness slowly draining.

"Apparently, me." Jack sighed. "Well, what is it… this 'Christmas'?"

Arabella looked dreamily at the green lantern above Jack's head. "Oh, it's a glorious holiday, Father Christmas comes with his flying reindeer and magic sleigh and gives presents to good girls and boys, and coal to the bad children. He flies around the world delivering presents all night and the next morning… well, it's Christmas, and all the children open their gifts. There's a few other traditions too, like a Christmas tree. You fell an evergreen and take it inside to decorate with candles and little glass icicles and ornaments of every sort…Father Christmas leaves the gifts under the tree, ye see."

"And, you forgot caroling and sleigh rides!" Fitzwilliam pointed out.

"Well, I've never had the money to ride a sleigh, and Tortuga's not much a town for caroling," Arabella admitted. Fitz nodded, rather guiltily.

Jean giggled, again. "What about the mistletoe, Bella?"

Arabella blushed pink, and explained, "Mistletoe is like holly, it's a plant…leaves with small red berries. It's hung up high, so people can walk under it. It's, ah," Arabella looked down, embarrassed, "it's tradition that when a couple meet under the mistletoe… they have to kiss."

Jean and Tumen laughed. Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. Jack smirked.

Then Jack asked, "So… Father Christmas, just magically gives gifts of various sorts to kids, wherever they might be, in one night…by riding magical flying reindeer?"

"Uh, huh," Arabella smiled, her holiday spirit returned as she looked into Jack's eyes, sparkling with curiosity.

"So… did he come?" Jack asked.

Arabella sighed, "Father Christmas is just a legend, he's not really coming to visit everyone."

Jack's smile faded a bit. His eyes smoldered. "Oh," he said simply. "Then, what are we celebrating?"

"Well, even though Father Christmas can't bring us gifts, doesn't mean _I _can't!" Arabella winked, pulling out five neatly wrapped packages.

Arabella walked over to Tumen, Jean, Fitz and Constance, handing each a package addressed to them.

Arabella had given Tumen a new, shiny astrolabe of what looked like silver, it's top engraved an intricate pattern. Tumen's eyes marveled over the beautiful piece of equipment and murmured a grateful, "thank you." Jean's gift was next, a box of seashell shaped cookies that he delicately devoured. For Fitzwilliam, a pocket watch, not golden as his last one, but just as special. Arabella helped Constance unwrap her gift, a little ball of red yarn. "A little cliché, I know," Arabella admitted shyly. Constance just purred.

And, last, and perhaps most important, came Captain Jack Sparrow's first Christmas present. Arabella carried box covered in a layer of red and green checkerboard paper, whispering "Merry Christmas," as she dropped the package into her Captain's hands. Jack glowed as he pulled the paper off, delicately, savoring every brilliant moment. The paper revealed a box that Jack gently opened, a huge smile spread across his face, as he pulled it out. It was brown, looked a tad tattered and worn, but, it was perfect and it was his. Jack put the tricorn on his head, glowing with pride. "Thanks, Bell," Jack said, "It's perfect."

Arabella smiled blissfully, unable to stop herself, pulled her majestic Captain into a warm embrace. "You're welcome," she whispered into his ear.


	4. One Thousand Miles

**One Thousand Miles**

Lyrics by Vanessa Carlton

_Originally published December 29, 2007_

The _Fleur de la Morte _sat peacefully tethered to a dock in New Orleans. The night waters tranquilly reflecting the millions upon millions of gleaming stars and the fragile luminosity of the few lanterns hanging on the pier's shoddy posts. A few of the crewmembers, including the Captain and her daughter, had gone into town to buy new supplies, a few hours before. Arabella had inwardly dreaded the excursion to the port for the painful memories it harbored. Still, she felt a part of her calling for the memory, no matter how aching the memories might be.

_Makin' my way downtown,  
Walkin' fast,  
Faces pass and I'm homebound._

_Starin' blankly ahead,  
Just makin' my way,  
Makin' a way through the crowd._

So far, she hadn't seen anything memorable at all. She, then, began to think about what happened here and why she was so reluctant to return.

_And I need you,  
And I miss you,  
And now I wonder...  
_

A face flickered into her memories, she slowly realized the familiar features of her previous Captain's smooth features, but as quickly as the image appeared, it vanished into the mental log it came from, leaving Arabella breathless. She began to feel a little ache when she tried to awake the memory of his face. She had chanced this pain to see him again but miserably, no gift of memory was given even as the pain endured.

_If I could fall into the sky,  
Do you think time  
would pass me by?  
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles  
If I could just see you...  
Tonight.  
_

The terrible longing returned, leaving its emotional mask on her expression. "_If I could just see you one more time…" _she thought, wistfully.

_It's always times like these_

_When I think of you,  
And wonder if you ever think of me._

The silent moment continued. Arabella's internal struggle gained no ground. She kept on dreaming of him, trying to trigger the image's return. "_Whenever the darkness falls, you return to my thoughts. Do you ever think of me?" _A lurch inside warned her of the dangerous territory of her heart.

_'Cause everything's so wrong  
And I don't belong.  
Livin' in your precious memory._

"Please," she thought, "your memory means more to me than anything. I need you. I don't belong with my mother and her crew, I never feel at home with her as I did with you. Please, please."

_'Cause I need you,_  
_And I miss you,_  
_And now I wonder..._

"I miss you. I don't know how I got this far without you. Please."

_If I could fall into the sky,_  
_Do you think time_  
_would pass me by?_  
_'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles_  
_If I could just see you..._  
_Tonight._

She longed with all her heart that she could see his face, just one more time. She wished that she had make a different decision the day that condemned her to her current fate. When she came upon the very location of the decision she almost fell to the ground.

_I, I, don't wanna let you know_  
_I, I, drown in your memory._  
_I, I, don't wanna let this go._  
_I, I, don't._

The face had returned. His features were a picture of his soul, a happy smile glowing brighter than one of the stars above her head. Then, her eyes drowned in tears, though for the first time in years she smiled. She collapsed on the spot he had stood years ago. The first time he seemed close to crying, himself.

Her mother walked toward her, but Mr. Reece put his hand up, blocking her way and nodded 'no,' slowly. She reluctantly pulled back.

Arabella knelt on the cobbled street; tears coming uncontrollably down her flushing cheeks.

_And I still need you,_  
_And I still miss you,_  
_And now I wonder..._

The tears glittered in the starlight. Arabella's sobs grew less and less perceptible, until they were nothing but a muffled, choked weeping.

Captain Smith stood, her head bowed in gloom. Arabella's mother felt a sense of defeat and failure-she knew why her daughter was sobbing her heart out. She knew it was the anniversary of the most painful day of her daughter's life that left her, Captain Smith, the winner. Now, she didn't feel like a winner. She felt like an irresponsible mother, who kept her daughter from what she really wanted most. Her friends, out there somewhere, just as upset as her Bell was now.

_If I could fall into the sky,_  
_Do you think time_  
_Would pass... us by?_  
_'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles_  
_If I could just see you..._

If they could be together again… just maybe, Arabella's suffering could end. "Please," Captain Smith thought, "I don't care how it happens, but, please, just bring my daughter some peace… I never thought I'd wish this upon myself, but, Please bring Captain Jack Sparrow here now."

_If I could fall into the sky,_  
_Do you think time would pass me by?_  
_'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles_  
_If I could just see you._

Arabella silently wished the same, the thoughts jerking tears out of her eyes.

_If I could just hold you..._  
_Tonight._

A figure walked up to Arabella patting her on the shoulder comfortingly. Shivers shot up her spine; she stood slowly and turned to the figure that interrupted her cry. She delicately touched his face, testing if he was real, those features that minutes before alluded her. A tear rolled down her cheek, he caught it and wiped it away before vanishing.


	5. Bad News

**Bad News**

Pre-CotBP Challenge Response of Jack's Response to Arabella's Death. Challenge by Magic-Catnip.

_Originally published May 11, 2008._

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. Another day of sailing on the crystal clear Caribbean Sea was coming to an end. Bootstrap Bill Turner gazed out over the ocean and breathed in the salty air. The crew had begun to go below decks to sleep after the day of taking orders from Captain Sparrow.

Now, the Captain just vaguely stood at the wheel, fantasizing in his world of riches and freedom. Bootstrap took a deep breath of the sea to clear his throat and his mind, then he took steps up the deck to the Captain.

"Err, Cap'n…" Bootstrap started, cautiously.

Jack woke from his reverie slowly, just barely processing that he was being addressed. "Uh, aye?" he said, his eyes still far away.

"I have to tell you somethin'… well, somethin' I think you should know… Somethin' you deserve to know, after all these years…" Bootstrap muttered, his voice unsteady.

"Mmm?" Jack prodded him to go on, reassuring Bill that he was still listening.

"Well, hmm, how should I say this…" Bootstrap muttered to himself, "Er, you remember when you first met me, all that business with Poseidon's Peak and such… And… And how that was the first you saw of your old crewmates –er, friends—again?"

"How could I forget?" Jack asked.

"I don't know if you remember her at all, but…Arabella Smith—"

"What about her?" Jack interrupted.

"Er—she… Well, she and I got married."

After a moment passed, Jack replied, bitterly, "Is that your news, mate?"

"No, er… No, Captain. We, eh, we had a son… his name is William, well, William Jr."

"After his father, I see. Nice. _Creative." _Jack replied in a coarse whisper.

"But… eh, I had a job in the Navy, so I wasn't home often."

"Navy, eh? What made you turn back to the _dark side_?"

"That's my news, Captain… I feel it my duty to inform you that well… Arabella …passed away last year. I'm sorry, Jack." Bootstrap said, sounding truly apologetic for being the bearer of bad news.

"Why, Bill? Why apologize to me? She was yer wife."

"That's the thing, Jack. Sometimes it felt like she wasn't. Like some part of her always belonged to you. And, I don't know. I just thought maybe some part of you cared about her, too."

With those words, Bootstrap Bill walked down the stairs to the main deck, turning his head to the horizon as the last glimpse of sunset fell below the horizon.

"Good night, Captain Sparrow." Bill said.

"'Night."

The night wind picked up. A cold harsh wind from the North blew with strength. But, Jack looked beyond it all again, returning to his paradise. His world of riches and freedom. Where Arabella Smith still smiled her beautiful smile, and warmed up the coldest of nights.


	6. The Seven Things I Hate About You

**The Seven Things I Hate About You**

Lyrics by Miley Cyrus

Request from xAquatic-Gypsyx

_Originally published... a longggg time ago. Forgive the sappiness of this, please. The next one is awesometastical._

"Ye know, I've been thinking…"

Arabella said, a flirtatious smile spread across her face.

Jack looked back at her, confused, but curious.

"What about?"

"Well…

I probably shouldn't…

nevermind."

Arabella rolled back over.

Arabella's hair tickled Jack's nose.

"No, no," he insisted. "Tell me!"

She rolled back over to face him.

"Oh, no, it's too horrible of me to say."

"Please?"

Jack put on his kicked puppy face.

She lowered her head and looked at him through her bangs.

"Don't look at me like that!" she laughed.

"Pleaseeee?" he begged, unrelenting.

"I shouldn't…" she teased.

He huffed in annoyance.

"…but I guess it couldn't hurt."

_I probably shouldn't say this  
_

"I'm going to tell ye something

that I have been thinking

about since I first met you."

Arabella admitted.

"What's that?" Jack inquired.

"Shh… don't interrupt."

Arabella playfully chastised.

"Fine with me," Jack said.

"I created a list. A list of the six…

well, seven things that I cannot _stand _about you."

Arabella said, giggling towards the end.

"That's not very nice," Jack laughed with her.

"I knew ye'd be upset! I shan't tell ye now."

Arabella feigned despair.

"Bell…!" Jack begged. "I'd love to know!

How can I stop doing it if you don't tell me!"

Arabella smiled sweetly.

"A good point. Fine, I'll tell ye.

Just don't argue about them.

This is my turn to argue. All right?"

"All right…" Jack agreed, reluctantly.

_But nothing's ever gonna change until you hear, my dear_

_The seven things I hate about you_  
_You're vain,_

"All right… number one…

You love yourself, so much!

You love yourself so much more than you deserve."

"More than I deser-!" Jack began to protest.

Realizing, he shut his mouth._  
_

_Your games, _

"Number two,

Ye never say what ye mean.

Why do ye do that?" Arabella asked.

"That, luv, is a secret so well-kept you may never know."

Jack answered, cryptically.

"Ugh, like that!" Arabella moaned, still playful.

_you're insecure_

"Number three,

I know there must be another person inside you,

one that you're not showing.

Because I don't know anyone

who can be insinciere and inemotional all the time."

"That's not true—

Captain Jack Sparrow has no weaknesses, that's all.

Emotion is weakness," Jack insisted.

"Jack, emotion is not weakness.

Not unless you make it be.

I would love to see an emotional Jack.

Why do men always think that emotion is bad?

I have never seen any boy cry…

well, maybe Fitz, but… that's not the point.

Jack… it's okay to show emotion.

Emotion is your heart speaking through you,"

Arabella ranted, a bit of her anger flaring up.

Jack was about to disagree when he thought better of it.

"What's the next thing?"

_You love me, you like her_

Arabella was a little caught off guard by the absence of Jack's come-back,

but she got over the minor shock to answer his request.

"Four,

When ye see a pretty girl,

it doesn't matter who she is,

ye are incessant with yer flirtation,"

Arabella accused.

"Bell!" Jack exclaimed. "Are you trying to say yer _jealous_?"

"Shut up, Jack," Arabella snapped. "I just find it…disrespectful."

"Oh… okay, Bell," Jack said, rolling his eyes.

"NO! It's really great!

Watching ye go absoulutely air-headed for a pretty face.

I just LOVE watching you completely lose sight of all our goals

so you can talk to some random woman,"

Arabella fought.

"Fine! Fine! Okay, whatever,

you're not jealous," Jack said.

"_Much_," he faux coughed.

_You make me laugh, you make me cry  
I don't know which side to buy_

"Number five,

Ye make me so upset sometimes,

but I can't completely hate ye because ye make me truly happy sometimes.

Ye always make me laugh,

and yer very easy to be around.

But, at the same time you make me so _mad _at ye sometimes.

I just wanna kill ye,

but I can't make myself,

because of all the good times,"

Arabella said, a threatening tone melting into a fond one.

_Your friends, they're jerks  
When you act like them, just know it hurts  
I wanna be with the one I know_

"Number six,

Ye tell me that ye're not a pirate.

But, I'm not so sure that's true.

Ye certainly act like one, that's for certain.

Ye get more and more rebellious every day.

Ye dress like one, ye smell like one, you act like one.

And yet, ye insist ye're not."

Bella complained.

"I'm not," he said.

"Whatever," Arabella sighed.

_And the seventh thing I hate the most that you do_

She lay on her back, again,

her head falling lazily back on her straw filled pillow from home.

Jack still sat up, leaning over her.

"That's only six," he pointed out.

"I know," Bella said.

"But the last one is the single thing I hate most about ye.

And I don't think that would be good for ye to hear.

I mean the others are annoying.

And they make me mad and upset.

But, this last one, oh, this last one

Has ruined me life, in a sense."

"I ruined your life?"

he questioned, sounding a little upset.

"How?"

Arabella sighed.

"Ye made me do something.

Something I'm very scared I'll regret later in life."

Jack looked confused.

"What was that?

I try to make sure I don't force anyone to do anything.

I try not to take away anyone's freedom."

He looked a little hurt.

"Oh, but Jack,

This is something impossible for ye to avoid,"

Arabella explained.

"What do you mean?"

Jack asked, laying down on his pillow.

Arabella rolled to her side and whispered in Jack's ear:

"_You make me love you._"

She lovingly pressed her lips to his cheek.

_It's awkward and it's silent  
As I wait for you to say  
What I need to hear now  
Your sincere apology  
When you mean it, I'll believe it  
_

"Bell…" Jack trailed off.

"I'm sorry about all those things,

I wish… I wish I could change them!"

he exclaimed.

"It's okay," Bella says.

"Do ye know why?"

"Why?" he asks.

"Because I have another list…" she smiled.

_And compared to all the great things  
That would take too long to write  
I probably should mention  
The seven that I like_

"Would ye like to know the seven things I love about ye?"

Arabella asked, of course, knowing his answer already.

"Yes, please," Jack said, eagerly.

_The seven things I like about you  
Your hair,_

"One,

I love yer messy hair,"

Arabella said, grinning.

"I always thought Fitz was so overconcerned with his perfect hair.

But, ye. Ye, never seemed to care,

And yet, it was still so perfectly messy."

Jack smiled as she ran her fingers though his hair.

_your eyes, _

"Two,

Ye have the prettiest brown eyes I've yet to see.

And they go so deep,

I feel as if I can see yer soul.

They sparkle when yer happy,

Oh, they're so gorgeous when yer happy."

She said.

_your old Levi's_

"Three,

That silly, red bandana!"

_When we kiss I'm hypnotized_

"Four,

When ye wink at me…

or when you smile at me.

I can just feel myself melt."

_You make me laugh, you make me cry  
But I guess that's both I'll have to buy_

"Five,

though ye make me laugh, cry and every emotion in between,

there's no apathy or boredom when you're near."

_Your hands in mine  
When we're intertwined, everything's alright_

"Six,

When ye hold my hand.  
I feel like I can fly."

_And the seventh thing I like most that you do  
_

"And number seven's the sincerest words I've ever said

that I love you_."_

_You make me love you._


	7. Close Is All There Is

**Close Is All There Is**  
Lyrics by Carrie Underwood

_Originally published somewhere in 2009._

Searching, doesn't matter much what for, is not an easy thing to do. Everyone's doing it. Everyone's searching for something. Some don't know what they're searching for. Some are too proud to admit what they're looking for. And some are full aware of what they're looking for and very upset that they haven't found it yet. Finding these things, like I said, is not easy. It takes lifetimes to find things. Sometimes you're old and gray by the time you find it, too old to have enough time to enjoy it. Sometimes, you're young when you find it, but you don't realize it and let it go. Yeah, you're wondering now. Which of these many categories do you, Captain Jack Sparrow, fall into?

_You can hold any girl that you like  
Fall in love when it's easy at night  
But, you'll wake up wondering why she ain't ever something better  
When you're lost and run out of road  
Find what I already know  
In the end close's all there is  
But you won't find this  
No, you won't find this  
_

I found what I was looking for. I found a lot of things I wasn't looking for, too. And a lot of things I was glad to have found along the way. But, losing the most important thing along the way is not a heartening thing. Realizing it too late is a terribly _dis_heartening thing, in fact. Not that being disheartened isn't a likely outcome of searching. As I figure it, it's the likeliest outcome there is in most anything. Though, the first thing is searching. You see, this is because you find it, and let it go, have it taken away from you, or have it refuse you. Or you never find it in the first place. That's disheartening if anything is. But what was it I was searching for?

_There's once in a lifetime  
And there's once in a while  
And the difference between the two is about a million miles  
Oh, you might get lucky while the moon is looking up  
But in the truth of the morning, the stars will be long gone  
_

If you have found what you were searching for and it has somehow separated from you, you will undoubtedly and unintentionally continue looking, even though you know you found it and lost it. But, for those of you still looking, still searching fruitlessly and without success, I will tell you this bit of advice: stop looking. The only thing you will ever find is close. Close is really all there is. You won't find it again. I can promise you that. Some things you just cannot find again once lost. So yes, this is a completely mournful discovery, but it is the truth. Even if you think you've found it again, it's not. It's just close enough to fool you. Close enough to what, you wonder?

_You can hold any girl that you like  
Fall in love when it's easy at night  
But, you'll wake up wondering why she ain't ever something better  
When you're lost and run out of road  
Find what I already know  
In the end close's all there is  
But you won't find this  
_

So you can go on searching for lifetimes. Even if you were immortal, if you had forever, I can promise that you will never completely and truthfully find the same thing you lost. You see, I know. From experience. You can hold all the girls you meet. Fall in love as many times as you like. But when you are being truthful with yourself, you'll know it's not the same. It may be close, but never the same. But, who, Captain Sparrow, who is it that you lost?

_You can hold any girl that you like  
Fall in love when it's easy at night  
But, you'll wake up wondering why she ain't ever something better  
When you're lost and run out of road  
Find what I already know  
In the end close's all there is  
Oh, in the end it's me you're going to miss  
'Cause you won't find this  
Oh, you won't find this_

It doesn't matter. Because she's not coming back. And close is all I'm trying for anymore.


	8. Lucky

**Lucky**

Lyrics by Carrie Underwood

Request from AnimePirate

_Originally published in 2008._

_I've never been the kind that you'd call lucky  
Always stumbling' around in circles  
But I must have stumbled into something  
Look at me  
Am I really alone with you?_

Arabella was very aware of him, lying there next to her under the midnight stars.

Taking in the beautiful night and wondering what she did to deserve this.

She had never been a lucky girl. She never relied on luck to get her through.

Women were bad luck to most people she knew anyway.

But lying here now, she didn't feel unlucky.

She felt like the luckiest woman on earth.

_I wake up feeling like my life's worth living  
Can't recall when I last felt that way  
Guess it must be all this love you're giving  
Never knew never knew it could be like this_

She had never tried to love anyone before.

Anyone outside of her small bubble of family and friends was invisible.

And, she didn't know the exact moment when this changed.

But she thought it was sometime around when she started falling in love with Jack Sparrow,

Her lovely Captain, and her closest friend in the world.

_But I guess_  
_Some hearts  
They just get all the right breaks  
Some hearts have the stars on their side  
Some hearts,  
They just have it so easy  
Some hearts just get lucky sometimes  
Some hearts just get lucky, lucky sometimes_

Lucky, lucky, lucky.

Maybe those pirates and sailors were wrong, she thought proudly.

She definitely thought that being a sailor woman was a lucky endeavor indeed.

Look at how lucky she had been!

Who knew it was so easy?

Who told her that love was hard?

_Now who'd have thought someone like you could love me  
You're the last thing my heart expected  
Who'd have thought I'd ever find somebody  
Someone who someone who makes me feel like this  
Well I guess_

She pondered her Captain, smiling at her good fortune.

He is so like me, she thought, so much that I would follow him for a slight chance at treasure.

But, of course, he would have followed me for the same reason.

She smiled.

She loved the way he made her feel inside.

The tingle of butterflies in her stomach when he said her name.

Oh, and he was so beautiful.

_Some hearts  
They just get all the right breaks  
Some hearts have the stars on their side, yes  
Some hearts,  
They just have it so easy  
Some hearts just get lucky sometimes  
Some hearts just get lucky sometimes  
Ohhhhhh_

She wished she had realized this earlier.

So many wasted months! She thought, with despair.

But then she looked at him and her sadness was swept away,

We have forever, she realized.

Forget about months!

_Even hearts like mine  
Get lucky, lucky sometimes  
Even hearts like mine  
Ohhhhhhhh_

I must have done something really good.

I must have done something to deserve him.

But she could think of nothing.

Nothing good enough to deserve him.

She didn't think there was anything good enough.

_Some hearts,  
They just get all the right breaks  
Some hearts have the stars on their side  
Some hearts,  
They just have it so easy  
Some hearts just get lucky sometimes_

Magic was something did not base much belief on.

But she thought that love was something like magic.

You've got to believe.

_Some hearts  
They just get all the right breaks_  
_Some hearts have the stars on their side, yes  
Some hearts,  
They just have it so easy  
Some hearts just get lucky sometimes  
Some hearts just get lucky sometimes_


	9. Take Me By The Hand

**Take Me By The Hand**

Lyrics by Avril Lavinge

_Originally published 2008. _

Arabella was silently pacing around the small boathouse, waiting impatiently.

She hid under the overhang as effectively as she could, trying not to get wet, but she knew it was pointless.

Where _was_ he? She wondered, angrily.

Did he forget? Get lost? I drew him very specific and easy to follow directions.

She stopped pacing. She knew it was no use.

She wondered if he was coming at all.

She wondered how she got herself into this.

_I'm standing on a bridge  
I'm waiting in the dark  
I thought that you'd be here by now  
There's nothing but the rain  
No footsteps on the ground  
I'm listening but there's no sound_

She listened, but she heard nothing.

Nothing but the rain, pattering rhythmically.

Sitting on a barrel, on an abandoned cove.

Waiting for someone who would never come.

How pathetic was she? She thought in despair.

And she thought she would 'get away.'

How stupid was she?

Stupid enough to believe him.

_Isn't anyone trying to find me?  
Won't somebody come take me home? _

She should just go home. She knew she should.

To her drunk of a father. And her torturous job.

And forget about hope. And forget about happiness.

And forget about treasure and freedom.

And especially forget about Jack Sparrow.

Some partner. Leaving her standing in the rain.

She decided to forget about trust, too.

All people will ever do is let you down.

Break your heart.

Ruin you.

_It's a dark cold night  
Trying to figure out this life  
Wont you take me by the hand  
Take me somewhere new  
I don't know who you are  
But I... I'm with you  
I'm with you_

Her thoughts were too depressing, she moved on, back to how she got herself into this.

That night outside the Faithful Bride.

Promise of power.

Magic.

Happiness.

Freedom.

Friendship.

He wants me to come with him.

He's looking at me with these eyes…

The rain is falling, but I can't feel it.

I can't see it, I can't hear it.

All I can feel is him.

Looking at me.

Begging.

Asking.

Smiling.

Wondering the same thing about me that I am about him.

Will this be the first day of my life?

Can it really be this easy?

The rain caught on my eyelashes.

I blinked and it was over.

"Yes, I'll go."

Duh.

Of course I'll go with him.

As if that was a question.

He was just smiling.

I wondered if he felt that.

If he knew I felt that.

Oh, goodness I hope he did.

She slowly came out of her reverie, smiling in spite of herself.

Oh, yeah.

That's why she was still here.

_I'm looking for a place  
Searching for a face  
Is anybody here I know  
'Cause nothings going right  
And everything's a mess  
And no one likes to be alone_

She looked around, her spirit renewed.

Still searching for her partner.

Why wasn't he here yet?

Did something bad happen to him?

He'd only been here three days, but Tortuga was a dangerous place.

And he had a knack for getting himself in dangerous situations.

She'd saved him from one, just the other day.

But, she hadn't been around to save him…

She tried not to think about it.

Just keep waiting, she told herself.

He'll come.

_Isn't anyone trying to find me?  
Won't somebody come take me home  
It's a dark cold night  
Trying to figure out this life  
Wont you take me by the hand  
Take me somewhere new  
I don't know who you are  
But I... I'm with you  
I'm with you_

If it was anyone else,

For anything else.

Would she have gone?

She wondered.

Well, getting away from Tortuga was a good thing.

Maybe a hard thing.

But a good thing.

She definitely thought that she would take most chances to get away.

But she hadn't fully realized how much she wanted to before tonight.

Or maybe it was just the fact that she wanted to get away more now.

And she wouldn't try to deny the reason for that to herself.

_Oh why is everything so confusing  
Maybe I'm just out of my mind  
Yeah, yeah, yeah_

Her mother always used to teach her the strength of family.

The importance of staying together,

But she was gone now.

And her father was not her family anymore.

But was she wrong to leave her father? All alone?

Oh, mum, Arabella thought painfully, I'm sorry for leaving Da.

He wasn't Da though. You know that.

But she was still guilty.

But she didn't think she should be.

She was gaining a new family.

A strange little family, but a family nonetheless.

And she wouldn't miss her old family.

Not really.

_It's a dark cold night  
Trying to figure out this life  
Won't you take me by the hand  
Take me somewhere new  
I don't know who you are  
but I... I'm with you  
I'm with you_…

"Mr. Sparrow." She breathed with half-hidden relief.

It was all she could do not to burst out in song.

She was overwhelmed with gladness that she hadn't left.

That she hadn't backed out on this decision.

That she had agreed to go with him.

To sail the seas forever.

Power.

Freedom.

Family.

Magic.


	10. Meow

**Meow  
**A Constance Story

_Originally published in early 2009._

_(Excuse my French...)_

I flicked my tail at a particularly annoying mosquito buzzing around as I watched my brother and his friend pitifully and fruitlessly attempting to construct a raft to get off this stupid, humid, mosquito-infested island. It was kind of sad, really, watching those poor little boys straining themselves so very hard to build a raft that will, most likely, not even float, let alone be able to carry us home successfully. The pure naïveté of those small boys, thinking their labor would actually amount to something, ah, the very essence of it was heart-wrenching. But still I sat on my rock, still trying to rid my ears of the unceasing buzzing of that _trés stupide_ bug that insisted on hanging around me in my lazing about in the shade. I, just waiting for my brother and his friend to finish their pointless effort to get us home, with the inability to even inform them that their trouble was not worth it and they should join me in the shade and just relax instead of fretting about the shipwreck or how we ever shall get home again.

At that moment, I heard a voice. A boy's voice, not yet completely changed from the tone of younger boy's, like my brother's, but still changed enough to tell that this voice was older than my brother, probably about fourteen or fifteen…

"Come on," the voice said, from further down the path into the denser weeds. "It looks like the brush thins out up ahead. It'll be cool and shady under those trees, and we can rest there for a while."

Who was he talking to? My sharp ears could detect the footsteps of two-no three-people hiking through the weeds to the clearing where my brother and his friend were working. My ears twitched as I arced my neck to catch a glimpse of the newcomers interrupting the boys' work on their pointless project.

"Well!" exclaimed my brother, Jean, looking up from his work at the newcomers (who were still hidden behind a tree, conveniently blocking them from my view) "_Bonswa_ and _bienvenue_!" Jean went on to say, "Look what we got here, Tumen! New friends—and maybe even a way off this island!"

_Oui_, _venez par ici_, I thought, bidding the boy and his companions to stray into my vision. That's it, just a step past the tree, darling. _Oh la la… le garcon est beau!_ He is probably about fifteen; he has deliciously messy dark hair, tan skin, dark eyes to match his hair. He is dressed in traditional sailor's garb, with a red bandana across his forehead. He walks into the clearing with brimming confidence and curiosity at the boys' silly raft. Oh, the way he walks… but what is this? A girl follows him, she looks his age, and she has tousled auburn hair, her eyes flash brown as she tiredly trudges into my view, slow from hours hiking through the sweltering heat fields where only weeds can grow. She wears a simple dress and she, too, wears a bandana on her head. After her, comes another young man, taller (and far less attractive) than the first boy, with light blond, curly hair and an arrogant, 'I'm-better-than-you' manner. The stupid snob wears fancy silk clothes and carries a golden pocket watch. _Oui, __tres__ intelligent, riche garcon. _

"Welcome to our deserted island," Jean says with a bow for dramatic effect. "I am Jean, and this is my friend, Tumen."

I noticed that Jean did not mention me. Well, I suppose this means I need to introduce myself. Hm…

"I'm Jack Sparrow," the gorgeous boy introduced himself. "This is Arabella and Fitz."

Jean handed the parched girl, whose name I now knew was Arabella, a much needed drink of water. She drank deeply and thanked Jean with a nod, handing the water skin to the boy whose name, I deducted, was Fitz.

"You were caught in the same cursed storm, huh?" Jean inquired sweetly. "Tumen and I were on the _Seraph_. I think we are the only survivors—the English do not teach their sailors to swim so well."

"That's terrible," the girl, Arabella, said. Her voice was too kind, too (grr) _attractive_. I would have to fix that. These claws can destroy good looks if they're good for anything.

"It's pretty hot and not so nice around here. But still, this is not the worst place to have washed up," Jean said. I suppose he's partly right. But, this is definitely not the _nicest_ place to have washed up either. "Coconuts for eating, a freshwater spring up that way. And there's plenty of lumber. We're building a raft to get back to our home port." Jean gestured proudly to the pitiful pile of sticks and strings.

"There's more water, then?" the rich snob selfishly asked as he handed the water skin to Jack, the poor babe, he turned it upside down and the _menchant__ riche garcon _with his _estomac __égoïste_ had taken all the water without a drop for Jackie!

"There's as much as you want, my friend," Jean said, too politely for my liking, but what was I to do? Jean laughed. "If you do not mind the… er, _ambience_." Tumen, behind him, still dutifully working on their pile of rubbish, held up the human bone I had discovered before for them to see.

_Mon petit __ami_ choked a little at the sight. I frowned. I had found that… The Arabella girl gasped out a little, "Oh, my goodness!" and grabbed Jack's arm! Oooh, you're cruising on a fine line now, _petite mademoiselle…_

"Plenty more where that came from, too," Jean admitted, a mysteriously dark tone in his voice. "That is why we have been sticking so close to the beach."

The threesome stared, mortified, at the bone. In the moment of silence, I decided to take my opportunity to introduce myself. And I think I know the _perfect_ way to wrench the _happy couple_ apart…

"_HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!" _ I hissed loudly, as I jumped into the clearing, causing Arabella-girl to scream a high, girly scream as she squeezed Jack's arm even more tightly.

"What in the Greater Antilles is _that_?" my-Jack inquired about me. I was slightly offended, but hey, I guess he can get scared, too. Don't worry, I'll be brave for you, doll.

Jean laughed, and Tumen smiled, unfortunately ruining my effect.

"_That_ is Constance," Jean kindly defended my dignity while introducing me. He scratched my chin and I purred.

"You managed to save that cat along with yourselves?" My-Jack's face twisted into a disgusted sort of sneer. "_Why_?"

Oh, darling, that hurts. That cuts me deep.

"Constance isn't _just_ a cat," Jean announced, offended on my behalf. "She is my sister."

The threesome shared a couple skeptical looks. "Your sister," Jack said, finally.

"She is my sister. Well, she was. I mean, she is, but she's not like she used to be." That's right, _joli__,_ I wasn't always like this, and I won't be forever, _mon__copain_. "See, she's under a curse, cast by the mystic Tia Dalma herself." Jean stood up for me… or he did his best to do so.

"Was the spell cast because she was this vile in her previous incarnation?" my-Jack asked. _Oui, garcon,_ I was one naughty girl…

Arabella-girl, who had finally release my-Jack's arm, (yeah, good move, _souer_) moved slowly toward me, as if I really was an animal – please—and stuck her pathetic, little, dainty hand out to pet me. "Aw, poor thing…" she murmured, tenderly. Oh, no, girl, you must be kiddin' me. Don't think that tone's going to work on me. First, you think you can touch my man, now you think you can just be my best friend? Uh, no. Get real. "Let me just—" she was within a few inches from my head when instincts said 'ATTACK.' I let out my battle cry, a fierce hiss, and scratched her pathetic, little hand. It was even _bleeding_. Victory is _mine._ "You little…" Arabella-girl started. I dared her to finish as I inspected my scratching paw.

"_Definitely_ nasty," my-Jack said, putting an arm around the _mortally wounded_ damsel in distress. Typical hero, I figured.

"What a little brute," _riche _Fitz interjected. Yeah, like you're one to talk, Saint Egocentric. He gave the Arabella girl a handkerchief. I growled at her for effect before hopping cattily up onto a wooden post and sulkily twitching my tail.

"She's been through a lot," Jean tried again, desperately trying to come up with some excuse for my rudeness. Oh, stop trying, _frere_; I'm too _naughty_ for you to cover up _everything_.

My-Jack rolled his eyes at my brother. "All right, now that we have all been introduced—and I assume there isn't anyone else? No nephews turned into rats, no second cousins turned into rabid dogs? No? Well, then, would you mind leading us to this spring you mentioned?" Ah, my man is a clever one.

"With pleasure," my brother said, grinning. "Follow me!"

And, so, the threesome of my-Jack, Arabella-girl, and _le snobinard_, along with my brother, Jean, his quiet, Mayan best friend, Tumen and I did. As such, our adventures began.


	11. I'm Not What You Wanted

**I'm Not What You Wanted**

Lyircs by Taylor Swift

_Originally published 2008. _

In the time I have known you, Arabella, you have done nothing but surprise me.

Sometimes you are so kind and caring.

Other times you are sarcastic and temperamental.

Sometimes you are sad and you look like you are going to cry.

But then, you laugh and say you're completely fine.

Arabella, I have to confess something.

_You have a way of coming easily to me_  
_And when you take, you take the very best of me_  
_So I start a fight cause I need to feel something_  
_And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted_

I can't do this anymore, Arabella.

I know that you don't really love me.

I don't care what you say about it anymore.

I don't care who it is that you think about all those days, staring out at the ocean.

Sighing, as your eyes go glazed over.

I don't want to be your second best anymore.

_Oh, what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day  
Just walk away, ain't no use defending words that you will never say  
And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through  
I've never been anywhere cold as you_

It's no use.

Bella, I love you, but you…

You just need to let go.

You could defend him, but you'd never damage your pride enough to admit it.

And you think I don't know.

It's just cold, I think, to let me believe for so long that I was the one.

_You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray_  
_And I stood there loving you and wished them all away_  
_And you come away with a great little story_  
_Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you_

I can wish and wish that you would let go of him.

And just let me love you.

And just let me be the one.

But I know you never will, Arabella.

You never ever will.

So you can go on wishing for him without me.

_Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day_  
_Just walk away, ain't no use defending words that you will never say_  
_And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through_  
_I've never been anywhere cold as you_

There's no use, I realize.

A little too late.

My heart is already broken.

Not that you'll care anyway.

Sure, you'll be sad.

You revel in sadness.

You'll just be sad because I remind you of him.

_You never did give a damn thing honey but I cried, cried for you  
And I know you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you, died for you_

If you cared, Bella.

If you cared, I would cry.

But since I know you don't, I won't.

In fact, I know you wouldn't even notice if I died.

Even if I died for you.

Because I wasn't him, I wasn't what you wanted.

_Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day_  
_Every smile you fake is so condescending_  
_Counting all the scars you made_  
_And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through_  
_I've never been anywhere cold as you_

I hope you have a nice life, Arabella Smith.

I hope you find him one day.

I hope he cares about you as much as I did.

I hope you don't let another fool like me think you love him.

Don't break his heart, for me.

All My Love,

Bill Turner


	12. So Close

**So Close**

Lyrics by Rascal Flatts

Request from xAquatic-Gypsyx

_Originally published 2008._

As Jack lay awake that lonely night on the Barnacle, his thoughts drifted aimlessly to the past. Tumen and Jean, he had anticipated. Constance, he had anticipated with great …well, anticipation. But Arabella, now there was something he had not accounted for.

Going with Captain Laura? What had her bloody mother done to deserve such devotion? She kidnapped Bell for Lord's sake. And to think, he had thought of her as a dedicated first mate, a partner and shipmate who would be around forever. Still imagining that she wouldn't be there the next morning to admonish them for sleeping in and make sure their breakfast was ready, and rolling her eyes when he and Fitzwilliam had their daily Captain-or-not dicussion. He sighed. Arabella didn't need her mom. Arabella's mom needed her. It was just impossible not to become dependant on her sarcastic comments, her smug knowledge of everything, her motherly caring for the crew and everyone in it. She truly was his crew's mother, Jack thought, wondering what would happen to himself and Fitzwilliam, two lost little orphans now that she was gone.

Jack vaguely pondered if she was ever coming home again. Well… to the _Barnacle_ again, he corrected. But, the _Barnacle_ was much better than _his_ real home, or Arabella's for that matter. Not quite up to Fitzy's standards, but the reason he down-sized on living quarters was a mystery Jack was not particularly concerned with solving.

Jack returned to the idea that she may return one day. And, of course, in it's wake, the idea that she might _not_ stuck a reverberating chord. What then? Then he would simply go on with bloody Fitz? That seemed like a sad future for Captain Jack Sparrow. And that didn't make Jack happy in the slightest. He frowned a pondering frown, still working the possibilities through his mind. He wondered what it would be like now that the only reason he and Fitz hadn't killed each other yet was gone. But, then again, she was probably part of the reason they fought so much, Jack thought, ironically. Bell, me lass, if you only knew…

_I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house_  
_That don't bother me_  
_I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out_  
_I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while_  
_Even though going on with you gone still upsets me_  
_There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay_  
_But that's not what gets me_

It was kind of funny, Jack thought. Realizing these connections his small crew had formed in the few months they'd spend together. How Tumen's volcanic glass knife was all Jack could see in the darkness of the shining nighttime sea; quiet, but deadly, dark and shining in the light of the moon. Or how Jean's love of food had permanently inclined Jack to identify every kind of food Jean would fantasize about. Or how Constance, Jack grudingly and humorously thought, would leave a lasting enmity towards animals ingrained in his mind. Or how Arabella's little pink tongue sticking out from between her lips was the only thing Jack could think about when he thought about his playful arguments with Fitzwilliam. Or how she would take Fitz's bloody side just to annoy him. Or how she would always have an answer to any question. Or how she bit her lower lip when she was nervous, or thinking, or upset… well actually, Jack admitted to himself, she left some sort of mark on every part of his life now. The _Barnacle_ would always be tainted with the memory of old friends lost, Jack thought quietly. He quickly shunned this thought and the little surge of ache deep inside.

_What hurts the most  
Was being so close  
And having so much to say  
And watching you walk away  
And never knowing  
What could have been  
And not seeing that loving you  
Is what I was tryin' to do_

"What are ye thinkin' about, Bell?" I asked, leaning on the rail.

She kept staring straight ahead at the empty sea. "The past. The future. How pretty the night is." Arabella said slowly.

"Missing Tortuga and yer dear father?" I inquired, sarcastically. I knew how happy she was to get out of the Faithful Bride and mandatory servatude until marriage or death.

She laughed. "Sure, sure," she said, sarcastically. "But the past is a nice distraction. And I miss some of it. He wasn't always bad."

"The past is in the past. He's certainly not the same anymore," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's comforting to think that he didn't start out this way. That no human was born bad. That life does the corrupting. And that, I don't know, human nature doesn't include cruelty and evil? That we are loving, good creatures."

"Bell, I knew you were smart. I didn't take ye on as a philosopher," I joked.

She elbowed me, playfully. "I can't be yer first mate and a philosopher?"

"Well, I suppose I can make an exception. This _one_ time. Secondary engagements are greatly discouraged on this vessel, though, Miss Smith, as they are much larger distractions than the occasional glance into the past."

She smiled. "Thanks for yer permission, Captain Sparrow." She mock saluted me.

"Yer welcome," I answered, smiling back.

"But, I don't think I'd want to stop being yer first mate, even if I had to stop philosophizing," Arabella admitted.

I just kind of smiled, taking in her comment and wondering what she meant.

"Well, I've had enough distraction for one night, I think. Good-night, Jack," she said, walking past me and down the steps to below-decks.

"'Night, Bell."

_It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go  
But I'm doin' It  
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone  
Still harder  
Getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret  
But I know if I could do it over  
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart  
That I left unspoken_

Jack pondered seeing her again. Years from now, when time had shaped them. When she was married or something, living on some nice island with little kids to take care of. The image this brought him wasn't very attractive, and he quickly dismissed it, not wanting his last memory of her to be like that. He wondered why it bothered him so much. Maybe the husband looked too much like Fitzy. He changed that quickly. It still wasn't right to him. He told himself to forget about it.

It was then when the thought entered his mind. About what Arabella had been thinking about that pretty night. "The past, the future, and how pretty the night is," she had said. They had spoken breifly about which past she was pondering, the problem with her father and the old memories of him that kept her from seeing him as all-bad. That was only one of the things she associated with the past, Jack knew, now that he had just experienced just how much Arabella's mother meant to her, and they had spoken about that even before they found out she was alive, even before Jack knew about Arabella's mother. But, he realized, this was only one of the things she had been thinking about that night.

"The future," she had said. She hadn't known how soon she would be leaving the _Barnacle_, so she wouldn't be thinking about the point when they would see each other again, as Jack had moments before. She would have been thinking of what? Jack wondered. The cottage by the sea and happy children and a stable husband? Somehow Jack didn't believe that was what she saw for herself. But what was? He sighed inwardly. Of course, this question would burn inside him now that he couldn't ask her. He stored it away in the rarely used cabin of his conciousness that he used for missing others.

_What hurts the most  
Is being so close  
And having so much to say  
And watching you walk away  
And never knowing  
What could have been  
And not seeing that loving you  
Is what I was trying to do_

That miss-y kind of feeling festered like a sore, burning a hole fiercer and fiercer. Jack had rarely experienced this kind of pain, so he had no idea how to register it.

"Why did she have to leave…" Jack asked aloud, not even realizing he had opened his mouth.

"I miss her, too," Fitzwilliam said, a great understandingly kind tone attributed to his words.

"What are you talking about?" the Captain asked, pretending lamely that he didn't know where Fitz was coming from.

Fitz laughed. "Go on, tell yourself you have not an inkling of what I'm speaking of. You will still lose in the end."

"What are ye on about, Fitzy?" Jack demanded.

"Oh, Jack, just admit to yourself that you love Arabella." Fitzwilliam taunted.

"Whaaa…? That's ridiculous!" Jack replied.

"Yes, yes, and you fought me over her so many times because you did not care about her at all. I understand completely," Fitz said, dubiously.

"Ye're mad," Jack said simply, rolling over in his hammock, his back to the smug Fitzwilliam.

"Whatever, _Captain_." Fitz taunted, chuckling and rolling over to sleep.

Jack's stubborn frown melted into a dreamy smile in Jack's sleep, in a beautiful dream of a beautiful future where the past wasn't a trifling distraction from a life of freedom and joy.

_Not seeing that loving you  
That's what I was trying to do_


	13. Perfectly Fine

**Perfectly Fine**

Lyrics by Taylor Swift

_Originally published 2009._

It is a clear night. Arabella sits at her vanity, smiling at herself as she braids her is supportive. He is respectful. He is lovely.  
She sprays her slender neck with some sweet smelling perfume.  
He is pleasant. He is sure. He is helpful.  
The light pink powder puffs a little blush onto her lightly tanned cheeks.  
He is delightful. He is kind. He is polite.  
She stands and slips into a silken dress with little maroon flowers, singing a happy tune.  
He is likable. He is amiable. He's friendly.  
She tops her completed hair with a small comb with a flower on it as a finishing touch.  
He is a gentleman. He is flawless. He is _perfect_.

The face in the mirror is different. She looks like a princess. She feels gorgeous.  
He was exciting. He was funny. He was lovable.  
She leans in closer. The light is dim in the cabin. The flickering shadows dance across the walls.  
He was amazing. He was brilliant. He was charming.  
She questions this mirror girl, her eyes catching the bouncing light of the candle.  
He was clever. He was difficult. He was special.  
Memories flashed across her reflection. A single tear erases the makeup in a trail down her cheek.  
He was one-of-a-kind. He was irreplaceable. He was a dream come true.

She walks out the door. Her smile is quickly replaced. She knows that it is hardly convincing, and it hurts that he doesn't notice.  
He is impersonal. He is predictable. He is too perfect.  
She excuses herself without giving a reason. When she bids him farewell, he does not answer. She this is the last goodbye she will waste on him.

She stands by the rail. The wind blows cold night air, chilling her tear-streaked cheeks. She whispers, "I am sorry."  
You were dedicated. You were caring. You were my best friend.  
The wind stings her eyes with salt. She thinks of her past wrongs. Her heart breaks for the second chance she will never get.


	14. Stimulating Conversation

**Stimulating Conversation**

_**Originally published 2009.**_

Around midnight, and the deck of the _Barnacle_ was all but silent, floating on the calm ocean, black as onyx with it's own miniature droplets of light reflected back from the starry sky. It was these quiet moments that Jack Sparrow bolstered his faltering sanity. All quiet, what did it take? How many sounds were absent to create silence? Jack mused vaguely, when something interrupted his sleepy ponderings. The last step from below decks creaking, he identified. Who? He focused on that area of the ship, but he saw no one. His eyes moved curiously all over the main deck, searching with no reward for the disturber of the peace. Finally, he gave up, and went back to his wonderings.

The stars don't make a sound, but how powerful are they to penetrate the blackness of the night? Jack's mind continued to run over these small and otherwise insignificant thoughts when he heard the noise again. He quickly looked around, hoping to catch the disturber on his second offense. Probably Fitzy or Jean… Jack guessed. Playing some sort of trick or something. Best off ignored. Jack concluded as he went back to steering the _Barnacle_ with his Captainly officiality, hoping not to embarrass himself if this was some sort of "find the noise" practical joke.

When he heard the little wooden creak for the third time, Jack spoke: "Very funny."

That's when she showed herself. "Oh, I'm sorry for startling ye, Jack," Arabella apologized.

Jack, wiping a fairly startled expression off his face, proclaimed, "I wasn't startled… I mean, nothing to apologize for, Bell. But, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep. Fitz is sword fighting in his sleep again. If he poked my back one more time I think I would have come down there and given him a _real_ fight." Arabella explained, her tone light. "And I like it up here at night. So quiet, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "It's easy to think when you've got no one to talk to. But, now that you're here, I don't have that problem anymore." Jack smiled earnestly.

Arabella laughed quietly. "So much for some quiet midnight thinking…" she joked.

"Oh well, if you'd rather not talk to me, that's fine as well, Miss Smith." Jack offered, feigning offence.

"No, no, I didn't mean it that way," Arabella insisted.

"Yes, you did," Jack sighed playfully. "I'll just go back to the silence and the dark, closing in upon me, without the cheerful voice of my first mate, gladly returning to solitude because she wants to _think_…" Jack pitifully went back to his steering.

"Oh, yer so annoying," Arabella said, still playful. "But I suppose if ye have something stimulating to converse about…"

Jack scoffed. "Stimulating conversation, Bell? You've never had a 'stimulating' conversation in your life!"

"So I can't start now?" Arabella defended.

Jack sighed. "You stimulate the stimulating conversation, then we'll talk."

"Ah…" Arabella laughed a little, finally lamely trying: "How are ye, tonight, Captain?"

Jack had to think for a moment. "Not bad, really. But, Bell, don't tell me that is your best conversation stimulation. My only real choice for reply is: and how are you?"

"Well, I don't know, can ye come with anything better? And, I am just fine, thank ye very much for asking," Arabella answered.

"Uhh…" Jack thought. "What were you planning on thinking over while you were out here?" Jack attempted. "I don't know, Bell. I thought it was your job to know everything."

Arabella laughed. "Well, I was going to think about… my life here on the Barnacle, with all my new friends. And how mad ye all are." Arabella smiled.

"I'm not mad." Jack stated, stubborn as a child.

Arabella rolled her eyes, "Keep telling yourself that, Jack. But, I doubt it'll ever be completely true."

"Fine. But what does that matter? I doubt there's a person on this earth who isn't a little bit insane."

"Sure, because Britain crowned a madman." Arabella countered, smartly.

"Well, he sends the Royal Navy after innocents, that's pretty insane." Jack answered.

"True…" Arabella agreed.

"So what else would you think about us, your mad shipmates, up here on deck at midnight, all alone in silence?" Jack inquired after a moment.

"I'd thank the stars for how fortunate I am to have friends like you… all of you are so kind. Even if ye are mad."

"So you are happy here, with us, right?" Jack asked, a little timidly.

"Of course I am, Jack, I couldn't be happier. I care so much about all of ye." Arabella put her hands on Jack's on the Barnacle's wheel. She looked at him and smiled. "All of ye crazy boys that will go straight into battle with some kind of beast or pirate without a fear, and get yerselves bloody killed over nothing. I worry about all of ye sometimes. God knows no one else will."

"Bell…" Jack wasn't quite sure what to say. "We do not jump into battle without reason. We have plenty of good reasons to fight with those you listed. You know that." Jack insisted finally.

"I know, ye dolt, I'm fighting them too. I just worry. I don't know what I'd do if any of ye were hurt or killed! I know that would pretty well scar me for the rest of me life. I'd never stop grieving." Arabella explained, scared by the mere thought of losing one of her boys.

Jack was experiencing a kind of warm feeling in his chest, although he couldn't be sure if the words, or the warmth of Arabella's soft skin on his fingers was having this affect on him. "It's not just you, I don't think any of us would be able to go on with you gone. Jean and Tumen would fall apart. Constance, well, she would… miss you, so much, but Fitzy! The boy would probably kill himself to make sure you didn't have too long a break from him."

"So, what? Ye would be just fine without me, eh, Captain?" Arabella picked at him flirtatiously.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack pointed out. "I don't need anyone." After a moment of silence, and Arabella's slight movement of her fingers away from his, Jack finished, "But—I would probably have to rename the Barnacle, 'cause this was your little boat I'd name it Arabella, then I would find the Sword of Cortes and make a new country and name it after you, although I'm not sure how, because Arabella is not a fitting name for a country, I don't think… But, anyway, I would always have your few things with me; I would not ever have another first mate, because you always will have that position. And… um," Jack desperately finished, "maybe, I'd even cry."

"Jack Sparrow!" Arabella cried in astonishment. "Ye would cry? For me?" Arabella asked, surprised, of course, but also touched. "But ye never cry. Ever!"

"I know." Jack defended his deflating dignity, hoping she wouldn't attract the attention of the boys below. "So, I guess, you're pretty important."

"Ohh," Arabella cooed. "Ye're very important to me too. I mean… ye saved me. If you hadn't stumbled into the Faithful Bride that night and stole that sack, I think I'd be working in that tavern forever."

"You would have been able to leave at some point, I'm sure some young sailor would come and ask you to marry him at some point." Jack pointed out.

"Or some bloody pirate." Arabella added, ruefully.

"Yeah…" Jack said, wondering which category she put him into.

"I don't think I'd want marry a seaman anyway, I'd be too afraid that they wouldn't come back home to me." Arabella mused.

"It's not like you don't already worry about these things, Bell," Jack said, excusing her comment as best as he could. "And, besides, you are great aboard the ship yourself, why wouldn't you just go with him?"

"I can't raise a family aboard a ship," Arabella said.

Jack shrugged, "Just a thought. I'm sure he'd miss you terribly while he was away. He'd wish you were there with him. You have a way of returning to the mind whether it is voluntary or otherwise."

"Well, then I guess I will just have to avoid marriage to a sailor."

"Or a pirate," Jack added.

"Somehow I feel I will be able to resist that."_  
_

"Well, if you didn't live near the sea, then how would I ever come to visit you?" Jack asked, a little mournfully, trying to accept the "no sea goers" rule.

"Oh, I didn't think ye would want to visit me… Jack, I didn't think… I can't even imagine ye when I'm at that point of my life."

"Didn't you think I would want to visit sometimes?" Jack said.

"Well, I have nothing against ye visiting, but I just didn't think…"

"Bell, when do you think yer gonna leave the Barnacle?" Jack asked, his heart sinking.

"Well… Not anytime too soon, I hope." Arabella reassured. "It all depends on what happens. I'll miss you all dearly when I do leave though."_  
_

"I'm going to sail the seas forever. On the Barnacle, or on any other ship, I just know I'm going to sail the seas until the end. I wish you would be here forever, but I'm not going to make up your mind for you."

"Well, Jack, there is a life beyond the sea. Continents of families, living peacefully, without pirates and storms and sea monsters to worry about."

"I guess," Jack relented. "I just never saw you as one to leave the sea for a stable lifestyle."

Arabella smiled, a little sadly, not really knowing what to say. "Don't ye ever want to slow down a bit? This adventuring all over the seas, it's fun, but… I think I'd like to be able to come home to something… more concrete than another adventure. Ye know?"

Jack nodded slightly, but didn't look at Arabella. "I've had that kind of home before. It didn't feel like a home much, though. It felt more like a prison."

Arabella looked down sadly. "Aye, I know that feeling. But, that's not all a home can be, Jack. All I've had of a real home is that where it was my mother, my father and I, still unbroken, a family. It didn't feel like a prison. Ye didn't want to leave. That left with my mother's disappearance and my father's discovery of the drink, but I still remember it. I want it back."

"Sounds nice, Bell." Jack's eyes dance around her thin fingers, still hesitating on his. "Do you think you'll find it again?" he asked, slowly.

Arabella sighed. "I hope," she said. "Oh, I wish ye could know what a real home was like."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I've sort of found the Barnacle to be a good enough home to suit me." Jack admitted.

Arabella pondered this a moment. "Thinking of it… I guess, I've fancied the Barnacle my home, too. A family… ye don't want to leave it… unbroken…"

"But, you still want to leave it," Jack accused. "It'll be broken then."

Arabella let out a confused breath, her eyebrows furrowing in conflicted wants. She straightened and finally said, "Well… I'm not leaving yet, am I?"

Jack smiled. "No, and perhaps not for a while? I mean, you'll need plenty of nights like this one to figure out what you want."

Arabella rolled her eyes. "We'll see, Captain Sparrow. We'll see."


	15. My Enemy's Secret

**My Enemy's Secret**

_Originally published September 2009._

The Caribbean, in a word, is savage. Overgrown, untamed, barbaric land, where heat drives men mad, rogues ravage the civilization that comes near. Ever since I came across the vast civility of the Atlantic to enter this humid hemisphere of sinners and the dregs of society, I have feared this New World would never be suitable for any civilized man, woman, or child. I had feared that no good could ever come of this world. I feared for the futility of my mission before it began. To locate a single pirate could only do so much good, as these pirates are reminiscent of the heads of the Greek's Hydra. If you are to sever one of the heads, you will have only achieved the opportunity for an additional two heads to grow in its place. The only way to vanquish this great opponent is to strike the heart, where another will not grow. I have my doubts as to the relevancy and the necessity of my mission, but I am not in a position to reject anything asked of me, so I will continue to search for Teague, if anything, perhaps terminate the bloodshed of some innocent people, somewhere.

Meanwhile on task, I find myself on the small, but adequate, deck of the rogue fishing vessel, Barnacle, where Tumen, the Mayan sailor, holds position at the helm. Jack Sparrow, the irritating, and surely mad, suspected son of Teague, and the purpose of my presence on this sorry excuse for a seaworthy vessel, walks, or 'struts' could perhaps better illustrate his strange gait, with an old compass in his hand and a puzzled expression on his face, however I care not what ails him. (Such detail, graciously, is not included in my assigned mission.) Jean Magliore is also aboard, though consequently, he is presently below-decks, if my estimate proves true, sorting through what is left of our food supply for scraps. Constance, Jean's 'sister' is napping beside the mainmast, where she seems especially pleased with the sunlight falling upon her. The final crewmate is also 'up top' with Tumen, Jack, and I. Miss Arabella Smith, formerly of Tortuga, the same island I hailed from naught but a few months prior to this moment. She has earned the position of First Mate aboard this vessel, though is better suited for the Captain's position than our ridiculous, immature, self-proclaimed 'Captain' we have gained ourselves in Jack Sparrow. She is easily reached beyond my expectations in the individuals I would come into contact with on my mission. In fact, to be painfully honest, I have found her to be quite delightful.

Looking upon her current actions, she seems to be poring carefully over the charts we had acquired to provide us with the means to properly navigate. Jean and Tumen had been exceedingly accommodating in teaching Arabella the proper use of the navigational tools. Since then, she has made navigation for the Barnacle a much smoother task. On this, I sincerely applaud her, but this is but the least of her commendable traits and actions. From when I first had the pleasure of meeting her, I felt it necessary to treat her with care, respect, and with a thorough reform my actions, so to be more gentlemanly and chivalrous, as I was brought up to do whilst in the presence of a lady. To my great astonishment when my politeness was met with, not thanks or any sort of graceful remark, but disdain, and displeasure. At first, I was taken aback, should a woman not wish to be waited upon? Should a woman not wish for a gentleman to, for example, carry a heavy bag for her? It was these very queries, which at first lead me to acquire a sour distaste for the impudence she had served me with. It was not until I considered her position further that I began to see her reasoning.

Arabella was born, brought up, and reached a level of knowledge while cradled in the deep sinfulness of Tortuga's port town. She, never in all of her life, had heard of any sort of manners, any knowledge of history, literature, art, or, for that matter, any Old World sense of propriety or civility. This thought appalled me, but leant me the ability to further understand the inherent, congenital nobility in her, a nobility that cannot be learned. This is a trait that, despairingly, many good Englishmen are lacking. However, in this lady, Arabella, a new hope had been born in me, a hope for this New World's ability to change. For, as I watched Arabella learn to use the Navigational charts, I could see a genuine intellect, a desire for knowledge, and a marvelous capability of understanding the King's educational measures, though she has never seen the bustle of London, or, for that matter, anything beyond the Caribbean Sea.

Additionally, she has opened my eyes to the underestimated capabilities of a lady to understand schooling. She can clearly handle the same tasks as any man could - perhaps better than some. I am embarrassed for the role man has played in downplaying the able lady's aptitude in many areas in which she could have surely excelled. I am truly glad that Arabella Smith was given a chance here, on the Barnacle, and, if for nothing else, she grew up here, in the Caribbean, where otherwise she would have been sent through a system where her faith in her own strength would have been torn down and forcibly hidden. The Caribbean, you'll understand, is a terrible place, in need of much effort on many fronts, but on this one, I must applaud the Caribbean, for it has allowed a new, improved type of lady to emerge in the apt form of Arabella Smith.

Now, I cannot say that her strength is the only prompt I have for admiring her. She is, in fact, lovely. Her auburn, reddish-brown hair suggests Scotland could hold her roots, as well as her flaring temper. Her eyes hold a color of rich brown. She is of slight build, and is of a moderate height for a fifteen year old lass. I have come to greatly admire her, and, as it seems, I could, without a terrible amount of effort, secure her as my future bride. I believe she would make a suiting wife, and especially compared with every girl I had ever met before her, she is the only my heart has ever fully settled upon. Hopefully after my mission is complete, she will see my reasoning behind exposing Jack Sparrow and his (supposed) father, Captain Teague, and support my decisions. She may feel conflicted at first, but in time, I am confident she would see that every conclusion I came to had a proper reason behind it. She is a reasonable lady. She would eventually forgive me. Subsequently, I would request her hand in marriage. She would want for nothing, I would be privileged enough to lavish her with all the treasures of the earth, and as a Navy officer, I could play a significant role in the colonization and taming of this wild beast that is the New World. I would civilize the entire globe, with the perfect woman by my side…

"Fitzy!" the crude voice struck me, with that indignant use of a ridiculous nick-name. "Stop dreamin'!" Jack, in his detestable, drawling accent, shouted, as he lifted his hand over my head, a wooden bucket grasped in his palm. I swiftly closed my eyes and turned down my head, bracing myself as he ungracefully dumped the bucket's contents, salt water, atop the back of my head. I let out a cough as the water dripped down to my face, going up my nose, and stinging uncomfortably.

Angered, and justifiably cross, I went onto reply to his unkind and uncalled for provocation, "Who informed you that I was dreaming, Jack?"

Jack's response was rude and, as his sparse brain would account for, required little thought: "No one." Of course no one informed you, idiot, my thoughts were prepared to be voiced, but Jack spoke again. "Ye just kinda got this look on yer face… something like this…" The facial expression was reminiscent to that of the childish immaturity of the come-back of an enfant. Jack Sparrow here made the most ridiculous face I have ever seen, complete with a slack jaw, out-of-focus eyes and a tongue nearing the edge of his mouth.

I could not leave this astonishingly juvenile reaction pass without a strictly mature retort of my own. I said: "Are you sure, Jack? I see that particular expression upon your face far too often for it to belong to me."

Ungraciously, this was not the end of Jack's responses. "Oh, but, Fitzy, I am a mind reader." Oh, dear, what was he going on about now? "I know who ye were thinkin' about." An involuntary shiver, despite the unmerciful heat, rippled through my core. "Why do ye think I poured the water on yer head? Drown that thought, Fitzy, because she's way out of yer league."

Well, even _if_ Jack was correct in this instance of suggesting Arabella was too good for me, a laughable concept, a tavern girl too good for a son of a wealthy, Earl-to-be, it was a pointed undertone in Jack's words that he felt he _was _'in her league'. Really, my only choice for reply was: "And, you believe that you are?"

"Oh, well, mate. Now that you've asked, the answer is yes." Inwardly, I am rolling my eyes in response to Jack Sparrow unfailing ego, and baseless confidence. For this reason, I can support my statements of his insanity. In his mind, he is better than even nobility, where he has no claims at even a peasant's place in a traditional society. He fails to comprehend that he is less than everyone aboard his ship, less than I, than Jean, Tumen, Arabella, and, yes, even the mangy Constance. And, yet, he goes on: "I mean, I am a _Captain_ and all."

This well-discussed topic of Jack's Captaincy is a sorry and clearly incessant fight. However, I will not allow myself to stay quiet while Jack, clearly the least intelligent and mannerly, orders around the more sane members of our scant crew. And so, this taunt is meant to bring up that regularly verbalized bicker. My response is quick and eloquent. "A self-appointed and ill-fitting Captain."

"Says you." Jack taunts again. "In any case, it doesn't change the title," his reply is smug and quite irritating.

"However," I cleverly counter his overbearing ego, "it may influence her opinion on the matter." It was sure doing a great deal with mine… "And besides, I do not believe you are fitting to court her." I finished, leaving my solid opinion on a firm note.

"And you think ye are?" Jack's comment was sent back to me, ridicule and tactlessness heavy in his words, which I easily reply to.

"Well," I began, with a brief scoff. "I am certainly more fitting than you, if that was what you were inquiring." I shot back, another defining blow that left my blundering opponent to think for a moment.

"S'only part of the question," was his answer. I noted his childish confidence was evacuating his expression, a semitone at a time. "The other part…" he began, again. "Do ye really care about her that much?"

"Yes," I answered, steadfast, matching his severity. I daringly responded, "do you?" My question hung in the humidity for a moment. Our voices were quieter now, protecting both of our egos from reaching our crewmates, definitely, but especially Arabella herself, who sat, unchanged, on the other side of the deck, still looking down at those charts, the light wind gently breezing her hair across her concentrating eyes.

Jack had pondered my question quietly, his eyes were dark and forbidding. He didn't have to give a 'yes' or a 'no.' He simply left it as, "you'll never tell."

"Never," I vowed, I'm not entirely sure why. Mayhap, a sudden, gentlemanly pity for him arose in me, seizing control of my vocal cords. Mayhap the clear fact that I now held my foe's best kept secret given to me, planted right in my hand.

Consequently, in further thinking, I never did use this information as a strategic piece. I never truly thought of it that way, except, perhaps, in excusing my actions in making a promise with one such as Jack Sparrow. No, something kept this deep inside. This was a secret, told in the confidence of a friend. I may have been on a mission, I may have worked for the Navy, where all information can, should, and must be used against the enemy, but I cannot help the way I was raised. And, I was raised a gentlemen. I would never tell my enemy's secret.


	16. I Could Use Another

**I Could Use Another**

Lyrics by Sara Bareilles

_Originally published August 2009._

The familiar scars of the regular table usually soothed weary fingertips after the long and troublesome days. In this lonely corner of the desperate midnight company, one strong but struggling woman could order the obligatory pint and choke it down with the crushing pressure the world had thrown upon her. The tavern was the sort where one can be easily overlooked. Disappear into the woodwork, part of the abused, shadowy corner table. Like a blind reading Braille, her practiced fingers knew every nick, dent, and tiny pain that the table endured. Her ale went down easier now. She gave out less chances. She didn't look at the others around her in that stuffy barroom any more, she preferred the solitude of a room of lost phantom souls.

_I could use another cigarette  
__But don't worry, daddy, I'm not addicted yet  
__One too many drinks tonight and I miss you  
__Like you were mine_

Her finger flicked tiredly, and the tavern boy, a sandy-haired, dark-eyed, lean young man who clearly wanted to be somewhere else, slid off his tippy barstool behind the counter to wait on the corner-table woman. "Another ale?" he expectantly enquired, already reaching for her almost empty cup. She didn't look up, just, looking ahead, momentarily managing a smile as she nodded. She blinked, heavily, eyelids drooping with the effort of trying so hard so long.

_All your stormy words have barely broken__  
__And you sound like thunder though__  
__You've barely spoken__  
__Oh, it looks like rain tonight and thank God__  
__'Cause a clear sky just wouldn't feel right._

He entered her mind again at the slam of the creaky door. Her spine tingled coldly. The boy came back with her cup of sorrow. She downed the cup with a disappointed brow. Her detachment fix wasn't doing its job. "Another," she muttered. The boy went back again, too tired to raise an eyebrow and too smart to disobey anyone who'd been drinking. The gray-black night threatening rain bleakly paralleled her foul mood. Like the coming storm, the little he said would resound like thunder, send the cowardly running, leaving only her, welcoming another scar and another midnight with one too many drinks.

_He's taken and leaving__  
__But I keep believing__  
__That he's gonna come round soon__  
__(He'll come round soon I know)__  
_

She's sick to death of this unanswered call, this unrewarded effort, she doesn't know what's keeping her going. He's leaving again, as if he was ever with her, but she can't shake the slow suicide of the belief that there's a chance: slim, unexpected, cliché, storybook, chance, that he might finally come around to her. It was foolish, childish, and very naïve to believe such a thing. This knowledge only made it harder on these deplorably routine nights.

_You may be my final match__  
__'Cause I chase everything  
__When you play __throw and I play catch_

The next cup came, soon sitting on the table's edge. She let out a deep breath, how long would she do this? She knew she would come back to this same spot, order another, the next time she chased after him. She was always the one working for it. She bit her lip, then thanked the boy, dismissively. He was so cruel. To let her fall behind him, tripping her up with empty promises and lost hopes. Sending her through an endless journey that caused her nothing but emptiness.

_It never took much to keep me satisfied__  
__But all the bullshit you feed me  
__You miss me, you need me  
__This hungry heart will not subside_

The hardest part could only be the little bit of her that could still manage to be hopeful kept intoxicating her, and when he would feed her the magic words, 'I miss you' and 'I need you,' and she would again forgive, forget and ready for another try. Another exhausting, terrible attempt at an impossible dream that she could only see as a fool's errand when she was down and alone again.

_He's taken and leaving__  
__But I keep believing__  
__That he's gonna come round soon_

Another sip, and she's lost again. Her mind a vast ocean of tumultuous and conflicting desires, warnings and that hated love she kept in the quiet harbor of hopeful naivety. Her clenched fist doesn't come down with the frustration she felt when it touched the table. The desperation is at her heart's bolted door again, tearing her down with every moment she was alone. Every moment she wasn't with him.

_Until I see him again__  
__I'm staying, believing__  
__That it won't be deceiving__  
__When he's gonna come round_

Until he comes back again, assuming, she thought irately, that he did, she would stay where he could find her, believing, as she had no other choice, that the sweet words weren't deceiving and he'd mean it. Lose all ulterior motives and just tell her the honest truths that she couldn't help believing were there inside of him somewhere. Everyone has a silent sincerity, right?

_Well I may seem naïve cry as you leave__  
__Like I'm just one more tortured heart__  
__These cracks that I show as I'm watching__  
__You go aren't tearing me apart_

When a lone tear drips into her ale, she feels quite ridiculous. Like she was just another one of those desperate girls, blinded by some lost love, blubbering when they were left alone, just like a baby. She didn't want that for herself. She wasn't that girl. She couldn't stand acting like she was. Those cliché tears of a tortured heart may threaten her, but she avoiding letting them fall. There was just no way to get rid of them, those stubborn remnants of those scars that were a stitch away from tearing her apart.

_I may seem naïve if I cry as you leave__  
__Like I'm just one more tortured heart__  
__These cracks that I show as I'm watching__  
__You go aren't tearing me apart_

She drowned the tear in a heavy swig, a lost strand of hair sticking to the sticky, salty trail that the tear took down her right cheek. Couldn't she just be stronger? Why did she have to always cry, like that damsel in a tower. That was the very dependent, permanence he shied from. She hugged herself, arms crossed and eyes towards the dirty floor. These cracks that he'd made were like the scars in the table. It could still stand, but that didn't mean it wasn't a permanent blow. She wasn't breaking down, but she couldn't escape the past.

_The angels said I'd smile today__  
__Well, who needs angels anyway?__  
_

Whoever feeds that last bit of hope surely must be blind, she decided, drinking down the last of that cup. How could you support such a venomous force, one that would only promise empty and impossible things, enough to fool you, but not enough to kill it when it's lost. This promise, she'd soon smile, had been welcomed as if it was from an angel, but in a time like this, when she was so low and far gone, back at the beginning again, with full knowledge of what was ahead, she could only think to herself, '_well, who needs angels anyway?_'

_I could use another cigarette._

The boy was back for the last time, picking up that empty cup, and wondering if she had made it far enough into her melancholy or if she would need another to drown the masochistic muses. "Ye want anything, miss?" he asked.

With a despairing sigh, she replied, "I could use another."


End file.
